


Guide Me Through This

by Salomonderiel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salomonderiel/pseuds/Salomonderiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <blockquote>
  <p>He got the text from Stiles the instant it happened - he knew Stiles wouldn't have wasted any time. Simple, to the point: <em>They released Mr Lahey's body</em></p>
</blockquote><p>Some people might say that Isaac shouldn't care, shouldn't be bothered about the guy that beat him throughout his childhood. Scott doesn't care. He just knows that Isaac needs someone, and that's all that matters to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guide Me Through This

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I have a thing for funeral related comforting.  
> Got the idea for the already posted fic of Stiles comforting Derek when Laura's body was released, then got hit by Scisaac feels (like the rest of tumblr, apparently!) and got this idea, too. 
> 
> (short thing written in under an hour. Read through it, but not been beta'd)

He got the text from Stiles the instant it happened - he knew Stiles wouldn't have wasted any time. Simple, to the point: _They released Mr Lahey's body_

Seconds later, Scott was yelling an excuse to his mom, grabbing his coat and running from the house.

Derek passed him, heading to his car the instant Scott burst from the trees. Derek didn't say anything, just nodded an acknowledgement. Stiles was efficient, he had to give him that - but he'd have to thank him for it later.

He was doing his _homework_. Calm as you will, sat at the table, textbooks and notepaper spread around him, head bowed and radio turned down low. How could he just do that...

Trying to move as quietly as he could, Scott stepped forwards, and slid into the chair beside Isaac. "Um... is that the chemistry?" he asked, already wincing at his own complete lack of subtlety.

Isaac's lips tilted. "Physics," he said, not looking up from his calculations, "but nice try. Closer than you could have been."

"Eh, it's a science," Scott shrugged, and when Isaac snorted, he smiled, warmth bubbling up.

"Hold on, let me just finish this," Isaac muttered, pen starting to scribble away, occasionally pausing as he thought, absently chewing at the end. Scott noted the action, filing it away, along with the creases it made on Isaac's forehead, the way his jaw shifted from side to side. He finished the sum with a small flourish, a flick of the point of the pen, before clicking it and setting it down in the crease of the open textbook. "So," he said, finally looking up and meeting Scott's eyes with his wide, curious blue ones. "Was it Derek that texted you, or Stiles?"

Scott wasn't surprised Isaac had figured it out, but that didn't mean he had to confess so quickly. "What?" he asked, leaning back and widening his eyes in an attempt to feign being offended. "You think I need to be _told_ to come and see you?"

Isaac raised an eyebrow, lips once again tilted into a smile that wasn't entirely unaffectionate.

Lost cause. Scott sighed. "When does _Derek_ ever text me?" he asked. "It was Stiles."

Looking like he was genuinely considering the information, Isaac nodded, looking down at his own phone. "Thought so. The emotional stuff makes Derek too awkward. He's fled to the Stilinski's, now. I must admit," he sighed out, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head, apparently casually, so obviously calm and casual, "I didn't think he'd consider Stiles' _dad_ less of a threat than planning a funeral."

"I think they've, uh, they've got over the _actual_ threatening, now," Scott tried saying. "Stiles told me his dad actually takes his gun off when Derek's in the house, now."

Isaac smiled again, but not for long enough.

It wasn't right, how he was trying so hard. "It's okay, you know," Scott said, hesitantly, unsure if he was doing the right thing. "I'm not as emotionally awkward as Derek is. You don't have to hide it anymore."

"I'm not-" Isaac began, automatic reflex, before realising how his heart was giving him away. He visibly sagged, hands falling back onto his lap, head tilting sideways as he closed his eyes, lips pressed together. "Yeah," he admitted eventually, eyes still closed. "Yeah, I am."

Scott chewed at his lip. He didn't know what to _do_ , Stiles was the one who did this type of thing, he always knew what to say, how to react... if he made it worse, he'd...

Eventually, he did what he wanted to do. What he'd want Isaac to do. He rest his hand on Isaac's shoulder, rubbing gently with his thumb. He shuffled his chair closer, trying to be as quiet about it as possible, until his side was pressed against Isaac's in what he hoped was a silent, supporting comfort.

After a while, a few minutes perhaps, Isaac reached up and set his hand over Scott's, fingers prying at Scott's so he twisted his hand, until he could hold Isaac's hand in his. "I don't know how to react," Isaac admitted eventually, hand tightening on Scott's and biting at his lips.

"Neither do I," Scott muttered back. "Just... however you want to, I guess. No one's going to judge you for crying over him, or spitting onto his grave - uh, that was a bit tactless, wasn't it?"

Isaac's lips twitched, but any sign of humour fell away again almost immediately. "Yeah, a bit," he echoed, nodding. His eyes were still closed.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. You're... helping more than you're not."

"Good - that's kinda what I was going for."

He didn't risk saying anything else. There was only so much he could do before he screwed up. He couldn't afford to screw this up.

It took a while, but eventually Isaac opened his eyes, face calm again. He didn't let go of Scott's hand, but he lowered them, until they were resting on the small gap between their thighs.

"You - you okay?" Scott asked,

Isaac looked across at him, head tilted and smiling with a dark humour. "Is that a trick question?" he asked wryly.

"Yeah, perhaps," Scott had to admit, smiling back in almost exactly the same way. "D'you - do you want me? To be there? At the - the-"

"Funeral," Isaac finished for him, in a low voice. "You _can_ say the word, you know." He was looking back down at their joined hands, turning it over so Scott's hand was on top, looking at how their fingers were slotted together. "And - that'd be good, actually. If you could just, be there... you don't have to be in the main group, just - somewhere I can see you-"

"No!" Scott cut in, the force of his words even surprising himself. "No, I - I'm not going to make you stand there by your _self_ \- if you want me to, I'll be with you. I _want_ to be with you. Just let me help you, okay? Cos I really, really want to," he confessed, and Isaac turned his head back to look at him, eyes wide with shock. Only then did Scott realise, that for a lot of that, he'd been yelling. And also, how _much_ he'd just admitted to. He cleared his throat, not looking away from Isaac, and continued, slightly quieter, "If, that is... it's okay with you?"

Isaac didn't say anything for a second, just looking at him, a smile slowly appearing on his face. His blue eyes dropped for a second, back to their hands, across Scott's face, his lips, his cheeks, before settling back on his eyes. "Yeah, that's okay with me," he said softly.

Something had just happened. Scott wasn't sure what, but... from the warmth in his chest, the smile that was now, apparently, stuck on his face - he'd guess it was a good thing. "Good," he said, "Okay. Yeah!"

And they were back to normal, Isaac raising an eyebrow at Scott's rambling and general lack of mental organisation, smiling affectionatly, as Scott grinned and knocked shoulders with him.

"D'you want me to talk you through the homework?" Isaac offered, tilting his head back to the table. "So you know what to do when you finally do it? Oh, no wait-" he paused, held up a finger, " _if_ you finally do it."

"Shut up, I'll do it," Scott sighed, turning his body around to face the table, sliding his chair forwards until his chest was pressed against the table's edge. "So - what was the homework again?"

Beside him, Isaac sighed, and picked up his pen, pointing at the instructions in the text book, the explanations, and the rows of numbers he'd written down.

Scott didn't understand a word. He didn't say a word, either - but every now and then, he let his thumb brush over the back of Isaac's hand, where they were still interlocked under the table.


End file.
